


Food of the Gods

by Alex_deMorra (Ergo_Sum)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ergo_Sum/pseuds/Alex_deMorra
Summary: Okay - I am SUPER Later to Nathan Burgoine's JUNE Flash Fiction challenge:https://apostrophen.wordpress.com/2018/06/11/june-flash-fiction-draw-roundup/Yeah, it is November...it was due in June...whatevah.My only writing goal for the year is to finish every random challenge set. And, in the spirit of throwing out rules, I have put too many words in. Let's just call it...inflation...shall we?Okay -The genre: FantasyThe location: JunkyardThe object: Hot chocolateThis little number takes place between Hephaestus and his now ex-wife Aphrodite at his workshop on Lemnos. They are interrupted by the saucy sea nymph Cabeiro, who would mother Hephaestus' children (the fabled Cabeiri) in the near term future.Please feel free to leave comments and DEFINITELY check out the other authors on the link above.





	Food of the Gods

Aphrodite was announced with the scent of anemone, roses, and the heady top note of contempt. Spicy florals tickled his nose, beckoning him to watch, to come closer, to adore her. His response was hardly unique. From his frequented place, sulking along the halls of Olympus, he’d seen them all: Apollo, Hermes, Ares, Poseidon…even Zeus oblivious to Hera’s growing venom, sniffed in her direction and jostled each other out of the way. It was to be a precursor for war.

“What do you want, _wife_?”

She was good at this game. Her neck pulsed with his use of that noun. Had he not known to look there, he wouldn’t have thought he’d bothered her in the slightest.

In retrospect, could he blame her? She hadn’t become his by choice. She was gifted to him. A prize. For freeing Hera from a throne binding her with invisible chains. What better prize for a god known for his ugliness than a mate known for her beauty?

These days, when Hephaestus said the word _prize_ to himself in his mind, it sounded a lot like the word _mistake_. He longed to put distance between himself and that particular mistake. So, when Aphrodite delayed in responding to his question, he returned to his task.

He’d been searching for something. An idea. Inspiration. Something he’d almost done before. Something tangible but at the edge of his memory. He’d almost had it, the concept swirling in his mind, the feel of it teasing his fingers. It was so close. The touch was right _there._

Then, it shriveled and drifted away.

Just like her, he thought and spun to face the goddess whose attention was focused on items scattered throughout his cave: Athena’s prototype breastplate, misshapen thunderbolts, all the gifts he had made for Aphrodite’s dowry returned upon their divorce, the fleet gold automata shifting said pieces from the ground near the lagoon to shelves further back.

She caught his gaze and rolled her eyes. “Oh, what… _husband_ …can’t I visit you in your junkyard on a whim? Are we not friends anymore?”

Friends? No. They would never be friends. How on Olympus would she imagine that a man who crafted a magic net to capture her and her lover in his own bed—never mind inviting all the gods to gawk at their infidelity—would remain friendly. His ex-wife’s eyebrows were raised, expectant for an answer. They remained undaunted when he mirrored her look back at her.

And… _junkyard_? She didn't fool him. He’d not missed how her eyes filled with longing when they rested on the magic girdle he’d repossessed with the rest of her bride price. “Oh, fine,” she granted, gold-wrought arms tossed in the air. “I need you to do a thing for me. That Golden Hound you made for Zeus…I want one.”

Hephaestus said nothing. Her perfect fingernail with a perfect white moon drug an arc through the soot on his arm reminded him she found him—oh, what was that word he’d overheard her say— _grotesque_.

A splash from the lagoon behind him interrupted his ex-wife from her continuing her request.

Cabeiro.

The sea nymph had been swimming up to his workshop lately.

One moment there would be no one and the next moment, she would be there, skin slick from the sea and a smile harvested from typhoons. There was always some reason she needed to find him: “Your volcano, my lovely brute, could have drowned the entire fleet of Thracians. Lucky I was there to save them…” On another visit: “Aren’t these pearls positively _divine_? Well, of course, they are. They say these are the oysters near that place Poseidon lost his shit. Like really lost it. Sand everywhere. You know the tale, don’t you?” After the last storm: “So…the Sirens are out of control. We were there trying to help this boat navigate this hellish storm surge and what are they doing? Singing. Oh, yeah. Totally undoing our work…”

Hephaestus almost confused himself with another. As if his were the arms sculpted in battle instead of hardened by fire. It felt dangerous.

Aphrodite, visible from the corner of his eye, wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Is that the Proteus brat?” The _what’s she doing here_ was implied. The danger Hephaestus felt was being transformed.

Cabeiro was fierce but she was no goddess. Aphrodite, on the other hand, need not care for someone to fly into a jealous rage. He should advise the sea nymph how unwise an action it was to finger the girdle on the bench in front of her, nevermind answer a question about her but not _addressed_ to her. “Brat seems so-o-o-o subjective but, if you insist--”

“I insist.”

“Well, that’s fine, then. Weren’t you asking your ex to make you a dog? You aren’t lonely, are you? I mean, dogs are great if you’re lonely.”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed. “I simply miss having a dog. It was so nice, having him scampering around my feet all day but …now look at me. I have to come to this godforsaken place to see him again.” Then, a laugh bubbled out of her. “Godforsaken. Ha. That was clever of me.”

Hephaestus growled then, upon registering the sound coming out of him, glowered, humiliated at both the comparison of himself—a god…and an Olympian no less—to a common beast and for the reference of Lemnos, his sacred island, as something _less than_. It made him burn. Rage rose within him and the island shook.

Aphrodite remained amused until she gathered how quickly magma was about to rise from the mouth of the cave. “You know, I can see this isn’t the best time. Perhaps, I’ll come back another day. How does that sound?” The ground continued to shake as she elbowed the nymph out of the way and summoned the sea foam that would envelop and transport her elsewhere. Soon only her fingers of her right hand were visible. They twinkled as if to say _ta_.

He took a deep breath in and followed it with a slow breath out.

Behind him, Cabeiro was pouring something into a goblet. He spun, catching her just in time. “Not that one!”

A lesser nymph would jump but she just sat there with her mouth in a perfect O until he sheepishly explained, “That one will make your nipples fall off. No. Not that one either. That one will bring disaster for the next seven generations of your offspring.” Hephaestus pulled two clay cups from under his workbench. “Here. This one is okay. And this one. These won’t do anything.”

The elixir she poured was like nothing he’d seen. Deep brown, like the earth. It was bitter but …was that the scent honey made from bees fed from thyme? “So, I’ve been to this place called the New World and _this_ is what I brought you. Xocolatl. Food of the Gods, they call it. That’s _you_ , right? Anyhow, you should go there. You’d love it. They have loads of fire there. Volcanos, too! And the jewelry? Well, you just have to see it...”

The drink was an aphrodisiac. Did she know this? Could she possibly realize?

“Anyway, I think you should make her that dog. You know what would be brilliant? A dog that pissed on the leg of every new lover she took to her chamber.”

Now she was just being ridiculous.

“No, no,” Cabeiro continued, “make a dog that bays with the exact sound she makes when she’s coming. Except louder. And make sure he does it all the time. Wait, no, wait. Make it Zeus’ O-voice.That’s funnier, right? Yeah, pretend I said that. So much funnier.”

He brought the frothy beverage to his lips.

“Slowly!” She warned. “There are chili peppers in there—if you aren’t careful, it will feel like your mouth is on fire.”

He took a sip, then downed the rest. All of a sudden, he was in the mood to burn.


End file.
